


Born of No Love

by 2space_lesbo1



Series: Wolf Witchers and a Swallow [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Ciri is Trying, Eskel is a Good Bro, Gen, Geralt is a good dad, Lambert has Feelings, More Confused Witchers, Vesemir is Awesome, ambiguous time line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Ciri has been training for some time now. They think it is time.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Wolf Witchers and a Swallow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619842
Comments: 21
Kudos: 120





	Born of No Love

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all so much for the lovely comments on my last fic! i decided to write another one and make this a series if y'all continue wanting more!

Ciri was getting good with the sword and footwork. She could move gracefully as Lambert had been drilling into her, and she could now even spar with him with practice swords. Geralt was watching one of their training sessions now, eyes following Ciri as she danced around him, having been taught to be lighter on her feet when faced with much larger and more skilled opponents. 

She blocks a downwards slice from Lambert and moves to the side as she struggles to hold his pressing weight up. She then yanks her sword from his, steps to be behind him and hits his leg with the wood. He feigns a cry of pain and dramatically falls to one knee. Ciri grins, cheering before he lunges forward and hits her side with his own wooden sword. She quickly stops cheering, cutting off with an “oof!” 

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Lambert said, taking on the lecturing “teacher” voice he's adopted since he'd started training Ciri. He pushes to his feet, holding the wooden sword’s hilt with both of his hands at his stomach. “Never let your guard down until the enemy is down. For good.” Ciri sighs and hangs her head, knowing what he was going to say next, “Punishment for your failure: clean all of the swords! Don't give me that look, get your ass over there and get started! We can spar again once you've finished that and trained with the pendulum again.” 

“But you said I didn't have to train with pendulum again!” Ciri protested, dropping her wood sword on the ground by her feet. Her eyebrows were scrunched as she glares at Lambert, clearly not pleased with the arrangement in the slightest. 

“Yeah, if you stayed good at fighting me,” Lambert shot back. He points a finger at the waiting swords. “Now go. Day’s not getting any younger with your bitching!” 

Ciri groans but turns on her heels and walks with shame to line of swords beside Geralt. She seemed to only notice him now, and her cheeks turn a deep red. “G- Geralt!” she stammered, and quickly looks away from him. She clasps her hands behind her back. “I didn't see you there… how long were you watching?” 

Geralt smiles fondly at her. “I saw the whole spar,” he answered, and her shoulders hunch as though she'd been beaten all over again. 

“Then you saw how badly I did,” she muttered, her chin dropping to her chest. 

“No,” Geralt said, and her eyes dart back to him. His smile widens, and her eyes flick from his lips back to his cat like pair of eyes. “I saw how much you've improved since you got here.” She shyly smiles in return at his words now, pride beginning to spread across her expression. Good. Lambert could do all the downgrading he wanted with her, Geralt could and would always be there to bring her back up. “You've gotten so much better with handling a sword, Ciri. Of course you're still going to still have flaws, everyone does. In fact, I do believe that Lambert's flaw is that he's slower and can't catch as much on his left side…” he smirks coyly at her, and she's starting to grin at his hint. “Though I could be wrong.” 

Lambert notices them talking, and Ciri not cleaning, and yells, “Hey! Wolf! If you don't stop distracting her from sword cleaning I'm gonna have to kick your ass out of here!” He walks over to them, hands on his hips. He points at the swords again, exasperatedly. “Now start cleaning those swords or you'll be stuck at the pendulum for a week!” 

Ciri quickly gets to work after that threat, grabbing the first sword in her reach and sitting down with cloth and oil. Geralt sighs, unable to stop the fondly warm feeling from growing in his chest as he watches her get back into her training mode. She'd gotten good at that, becoming serious when she was training with someone. 

“She's getting good with a sword.” Geralt turns to see Vesemir nearby, looking pleased and impressed. “I think she should be allowed on the Trail within the next week.” 

That catches Ciri’s attention, because she looks back up from the sword she was currently cleaning with wide eyes. She looked excited, pausing only a second before Lambert glares at her. She quickly resumes cleaning but keeps a close eye on the conversation. 

“You think she's ready?” Geralt asked, concern building in his chest even as he tried to push it down. Of course she would be. And of course she would be able to take care of herself. She was very strong and capable now. 

“That I do,” Vesemir replied. “Besides, I think we've gotten ourselves some drowner friends nearby that could use a quick sword slice.” 

Geralt doesn't like the idea at all, and he's about to say as much, when he sees how widely Ciri is grinning. She was truly excited again after who knew how long, and Geralt didn't want to take that from her. He sighs heavily instead, defeated. “Fine. But I'll go with her half of the way to the drowners her first time out,” he said, nerding this compromise. He couldn't quite yet stamp out the protective urges to keep Ciri in his sight at all times, especially if there was danger nearby. 

Ciri cheers, hissing a soft, “Yes!” She doesn't stop cleaning, so Lambert doesn't have to snap at her again. 

“When is she gonna go?” Lambert asked instead, arms crossed over his chest as he joins the other Witchers’ conversation. “I need to know when I really need to wear her ass out.” That has Ciri frowning in dread. 

“Probably at the end of this week,” Vesemir said, glancing towards the sun. “At sunset, when drowners are most active and sure to appear.” 

Lambert nods and smirks. “Looks like we’ll have to double her time on the pendulum, then,” he said snarkily and Ciri groans. He leans over, narrowed eyes looking over the swords she's already cleaned. “You missed a spot on all of these! Clean them again!” 

Ciri groans even louder but does as told anyway, sending a pleading look Geralt’s way. She should know by now he wouldn't step in unless Lambert was pushing her too hard. And right now, he wasn't. So, he merely smiles and gives her a small shrug of his shoulders. She looks away in defeat, rubbing at the swords even harder than before. 

Watching her now, Geralt does his best to ignore the rising fear building in his chest and stomach. She would be fine when she embarks on the Trail. He would be nearby, could help her if she needed it. Besides, there were still a few days until she went off. Plenty of time to train her harder than before. 

Which, later in the week, he does. He goes harder on her than he's done previously, hardly giving her time to breathe or think as he comes at her with flying fists. She keeps up to the best of her ability- which is very well- and dodges and redirects his kicks and punches well enough. But she could do better. And he would let her know as much. 

“You can do better, Ciri!” he said, and her eyes snap towards his wildly as she ducks under another of his punches. She is panting, light on the tips of her toes as she pirouettes out of the way of a kick. “Faster! Throw more punches! Harder!” 

She's gritting her teeth now, eyes sharp. She catches one of his punches, kicks up with her opposite foot and hits him in his side with all of her strength. That makes him double over momentarily, surprised she'd been able to land a blow on him with that much force, and she takes this moment to leap onto his back, to wrap her legs around her his neck and dive for the ground, using her weight to bring him down with her. He grunts in surprise, hardly able to breathe as his cheek is planted into the dirt, the legs around his neck tight and unrelenting. He growls, places one of his hands on the ground and begins to push up, hearing Ciri strain to keep him down. 

She yelps when he uses his strength to surge upwards, effectively throwing her from his neck and shoulders. She's trying to quickly catch herself, to scramble back to her feet, but he's quicker and has her pinned in the next second. She groans, already know she's lost. 

“Good move,” he said between pants, pushes to his feet and offers her a hand. She takes it, moaning as her muscles yell in protest. “Just make sure to switch to another move when you start to lose the advantage. Keep your opponent on the ground.” 

Ciri nods, and swallows between ragged breaths. “I almost had you, though,” she said with a grin, knocking him on the shoulder. “Next time I'll win.” 

He smirks in return at her banter, an eyebrow raised. “Are you so sure about that?” he said. “What if I was just going easy on you?” 

“You weren't,” she said with certainty. “You and the others have been doubling my training since it was decided I'd go on the Trail. I just won with pure skill.” 

“Or pure luck,” he pointed out. She shakes her head again, a grin growing on her face. 

“I don't need luck.” 

He chuckles and wraps an arm over her shoulders. Her eyes widen and she's moving so fast in the next moment Geralt can't comprehend what she is doing. Her foot is knocking into the backs of his knees, and her hands are grabbing the back of his neck and she's pulling, yanking him to the ground as she throws herself onto his back, making sure he goes all the way down. She grabbing one of his wrists and pulling it behind him just as he's hit the ground, one of her knees digging into the middle of his back. 

“How was that for luck!” she exclaimed, laughing in triumph. Geralt chuckles as well, shaking his head against the dirt. 

“You got the drop on me!” he said, pride in his voice. “And you even got me down for a second! Too bad it wasn't for long!” 

“What are you talking ab-”

She doesn't get to finish because the next moment Geralt’s yanking his hand free and knocking her from his back. He's up and has her pinned again in the next, arms pressed to her sides and legs stuck beneath his weight. She is wide eyed for a second before she groans, realization hitting her and she does a half hearted wiggle to try and break free. He laughs and helps her up once more. “You'll keep me down one day, Ciri,” he reassures her as she brushes herself off. “Today just isn't the day.” 

She glares at him, but can't keep the same face. She snickers and lets her forehead fall against one of his shoulders as she laughs quietly. Her body was trembling, exhaustion from the previous week of extensive training finally catching up with it. But she doesn't fall over, doesn't complain or ask for a break. She merely takes a moment to catch her breath, leaning slightly against Geralt before pushing back again, eyes darting to Vesemir as the oldest Witcher approaches them. 

“You ready for your studies?” Vesemir asked, and Ciri nods, shaking herself before following him. Geralt watches then go before he sighs and heads into the castle as well. 

Eskel and Lambert are at the table, the former’s hair mussed and filled with debris and dust. He must have been trying to clear out the armory again. They greet him as he takes a seat at the opposite side of the table. Eskel slides him a drink and he takes it gratefully. 

Lambert clears his throat and Geralt turns his eyes to his face. “So why aren't you letting Ciri go on the Trail by herself?” he inquired, conversationally, but Geralt knows that it's taking all of his willpower to not sound like the jackass he was in that moment. “We all went by ourselves when it came our time.” 

Geralt sighs heavily, having anticipated this conversation from one of the two Witchers. It was definitely considered strange that Geralt was going with Ciri on the Trail for her first time; most of the time, young boys would always embark on their own, traveling the Trail solo. 

“Because he's worried about her,” Eskel said before Geralt could answer, a knowing look on his expression. The edges of his lips are twitching, almost like he wanted to smile but keeping himself from doing so. He was trying to keep his expression schooler as he'd been raised to, but the way his scars were trembling gave away that it was almost breaking. 

Geralt glares across at Eskel, who shrugs innocently and goes to take another sip of his drink. Lambert exchanges a look with him and they both end up smirking. “If you really must know,” he said, a slight snarl in the back of his words. “We has the mutations when we went on the Trail and had years of experience. Ciri does not. I just want to be nearby in case-” 

“You're overprotective!” Lambert interjected, coughing into the side of his wrist as though he could pretend he didn't actually say that. Geralt’s eye twitches, and the younger Witcher snorts. “Well, you are! You're like a mother wolf following around her pups all the time!” 

“That's what he basically is,” Eskel points out, no longer trying to hide the amused smirk which has spread across his face. Geralt’s other eye twitches now. “A mother hen!” 

“Oh shut up,” Geralt said with a roll of his eyes, and they both start to laugh. He can't rebuttal their points, because they were right. He was slightly, probably a bit too protective of Ciri. But he couldn't help it, really. Surges of protectiveness overtook him almost every time he was around her and she even looked like she was hurt. He couldn't explain it except for the fact that he's come to love her greatly and didn't want anything to happen to her. He would do anything to make sure she was alright and stayed that way. 

Ciri joins them not long after, muttering something or another about drowners and their weaknesses. She takes her spot beside Geralt and bites into a piece of bread left over from lunch. This was the time Eskel would teach her next, but he usually lets her have a few minutes before making her continue learning. It was small kindnesses like that that Geralt knew Ciri appreciates. 

“Anyway,” Geralt said, deciding to change the conversation now that the subject of the last was here. “Have you decided on a mount for Ciri yet?” 

Eskel’s smirk breaks into a grin. He always liked speaking of animals- in fact, he seemed to like animals more than humans, and they seemed to like him just as much back. Most animals adored the scarred Witcher, following him around or desiring his attention. Probably why so many hounds had started gathering in the courtyard again. And they would stay there until Lambert or Vesemir chased them out again. 

“I have, actually!” he announces, and Ciri finishes the bread quickly, turning her attention to him. This seemed to be news to her too. He'd probably told her that he was looking at stallions and mares for her and had only now chosen one. “The mount for Ciri, is, in fact, one of Scorpion’s own foals.” 

Ciri’s eyes widen in disbelief and she grins. “Really, Eskel?” she asked, excitement coloring her tone. He nods to her, and her grin grows wider. “Did you hear that Geralt? I get one of Scorpion’s foals!” 

“A young mare, in fact,” Eskel continues. Lambert looks impressed, almost. Which was a hard thing to accomplish. “She is already a fast runner and her fur is the color of the midnight sky.” 

“Can I meet her?” Ciri asked, hopping to her feet with anticipation. Eskel nods, also excited for her to meet the horse. 

“She is a few months old and ready to be broken in,” Eskel explains as he stands as well. Geralt decides to follow, curious of how Ciri’s first horse would look. “This will be the perfect opportunity for you to use what I've taught you to tame her and make her yours.” 

Ciri listens but is hardly able to contain her newfound excitement, which fuels her enough to give her energy again. She's hardly able to continue walking with the two Witchers, eager to see her chosen horse. 

They make it to the stables, where Roach greets Geralt with a snort and a head bump against his shoulder. He pats her between her ears and then continues to follow Eskel and Ciri into the pasture. Instantly, he spots the mare that Eskel has chosen for Ciri, watching it run across the pasture with graceful speed, its head held high and its mane dancing in the wind behind it. And Eskel had been right, its pelt was black as night, hooves sharp and pointed as it trots across the ground. It was a gorgeous and proud horse neighing loudly into the night.

Ciri gasps at the sight of it, probably taken aback by its beauty. Eskel has his arms crossed over his chest, staring out at the horse with his own form of pride. “So, what do you think?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“She’s beautiful!” Ciri exclaimed, the wonder turning back to her previous excitement from before. She looks ready to run straight to the horse and throw herself onto its back, ready to conquer it in a few seconds.

“She really is,” Geralt added as the horse notices them, throwing its head back with a snort and flipping its tail. “Though she is obviously not used to humans.”

“And that’s part of the reason why I chose her,” Eskel said in explanation, gesturing to the mare as it rears at them. It lands back on its front hooves, shaking its head in a challenge at them. “Not only is she fast and capable, she is not yet broken it. Ciri will have to use the knowledge I’ve given her to tame her.”

Geralt nods and hums. “Good choice, then,” he said, and they exchange grins. 

“Now,” Eskel said as the mare runs from one side of the enclosure to the other, ears pinned backwards. “Swallow, you are going to tame her while we watch on the other side of the fence.” Ciri swallows heavily, clearly not looking forward to that part, but shakily nods anyway. “Tell me, what do you do first when approaching a wild mare?”

Ciri draws in a breath before answering, “Let it know I’m here and slowly approach from the side. Stay calm so it knows I’m not a threat, and let it calm before touching it.”

Eskel hums in approval. “Good. What next?”

“Let the horse get used to your touch and then start to get it used to your presence before trying to mount it,” Ciri replied, saying it all easily like it were a mantra. And maybe it was, something Eskel had drilled into her mind during their lessons. “If it starts to buck, start over. If it doesn’t, climb on and start the breaking process.”

“Good,” Eskel said, and turns towards the fence. He gestures for Geralt to follow him, and after a second of hesitance, the other Witcher does with some apprehension. He doesn’t want to leave Ciri alone with a wild horse that could trample her, but he knew that this was part of her training, that she has to do it on her own. They climb over the fence and he leans against it to watch. “Now, do it.”

Ciri bit her lip as she watched them exit the enclosure, her own apprehension of being alone without Geralt to protect her from danger clear on her face. But she shakes herself visibly and brushes the hair out of her face as she turns her attention on the mare. It was currently running along the sides of the enclosure, tail whipping through the air as it throws its head back again. She draws in a deep breath and begins to approach it.

The mare’s ears fly to her instantly, its gaze following them. Its gaze lands her and both Ciri and Geralt tense in unison.Ciri calms herself again and side steps, towards the horse’s side. It watches her, sides heaving as she slowly approaches it. It has stopped running at this point, instead pawing at the ground with one of its front hooves. 

It takes a minute before Ciri reaches the horse’s side. It continues to stare at her, not moving, and she slowly reaches out with a hand, lays it on its side. It snorts at the touch, shakes its head but still doesn't move. Ciri runs her hand down the horse’s flank softly, ready to pull her hand away if she needed to. But the horse lets her, ears beginning to lift as it calms. 

Ciri looks to Eskel and Geralt, gaze searching, and Eskel nods with a thumbs up, giving her the go ahead. She nods in return with another deep breath and places her hands on the mare’s shoulders. The horse nickers, one of its ears moving backwards as Ciri pushes up and throws a leg over its back. As soon as she's up fully, that's when hell breaks loose. 

The mare neighs, rearing. Ciri barely has any time to grab handfuls of its mane before it begins to run again, hooves beating the ground as it gallops at full speed. Geralt tenses even more, tightly gripping the fence and wanting to do nothing more than hurl himself in and calm the horse with a spell. But he keeps himself rooted in place, nearly breaking the wooden fence with his grip. 

Ciri presses herself closer to the horse’s back as it rears again, baying loudly into the night air. It shakes its head, lands and begins to buck. Ciri holds tightly, pulls at the mane as dirt and dust is kicked into the air by wild hooves. Her face is whipped with the areas of the mane she isn't gripping and her knuckles are turning white from how tight she's holding. 

The mare bays once more, rams into the side of the fence the Witchers aren't standing at. This successfully slams Ciri’s leg into it as well, and the girl yells and grits her teeth in pain, but she does not let go. Geralt growls at the sound, the protective surge filling him again, and Eskel lays a hand on his shoulder. Whether to calm him or keep him from leaping into the enclosure Geralt wasn't sure but he appreciated it nonetheless. 

With another howl, the mare begins to buck once more, ramming into a fence on the opposite side, effectively injuring Ciri’s other leg as well. Ciri doesn’t give up, even as blood soaks both of her legs from gashes in her calves. She grits her teeth and yanks at the mare’s mane, loudly yowls over the horse’s baying. The mare’s ears pin backwards at the sounds, and it lands on all fours, shakes its head to try and get Ciri’s grip loose. But Ciri yells again, tears the horse’s head the opposite way it was shaking, pulling it backwards with all of her might.

The horse blows out, chest heaving as it moves backwards with the way Ciri is pulling at its mane. Geralt can see its neck straining as it tries to pull its head back down, but Ciri is unrelenting, only pulling tighter and angling it to the left. It begins to back up to the right, unable to stop itself from moving the direction she was demanding with her grip. It tries to buck again, and Ciri kicks her heels into its sides, yanks its mane the opposite direction. It settles on its hooves again, moves in the other direction.

Ciri continues to messily steer it backwards, making it do an entire circle around the perimeter. Its fighting bucks slowly begin to die down as the minutes pass it Ciri forcefully steering it, instead nickering with annoyance, ears angling back forwards as it begins to grow used to having Ciri’s weight on its back.

After another lap of backing up along the perimeter, Ciri finally eases on her grip. The mare seems to take this as an opportunity to buck again, but Ciri quickly pulls at the hair to the side, makes the mare turn in the same direction. She digs her heels into its side again and the horse neighs, canters forward with some protesting baying. It continues to toss its head this way and that, but Ciri doesn’t let it buck or rear or go in the direction it wanted to go.

Eskel begins to clap as soon as Ciri gets the horse to a full walk, which startles both the mare and the girl on its back. But as soon as the horse’s ears even turn towards the sound, Ciri is tearing its mane to the side to keep it on track. It obeys. Geralt releases the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding during the whole thing, his heart beginning to calm. Ciri had beat the beast and it now respected her, obeyed her. Even if it did still occasionally act up, she’d successfully broken it enough to ride it bareback.

“Bravo, Swallow!” Eskel called, and Ciri grins his way, but doesn’t take her attention from the mare. “You tamed her beautifully! Bring her over to us.”

The mare blows out as Ciri guides it to where the Witchers stood at the fence, sides heaving from the exertion of its fight with the girl. Eskel doesn’t hesitate to rub along the mare’s snout, staring up at it with respect and pride at Ciri. “You’ve gained her respect, Swallow,” he said, and Ciri leans forward and scratches the mare along her neck. The horse nickers, shifts on its hooves. “She’s yours now. You got a name in mind for her?”

Ciri hums, and Geralt can’t stop himself from patting the horse on its neck as well. It really was a brilliant mare, even with its sides soaked in sweat and its mane in knots from Ciri’s grip. It would be an excellent first mount for Ciri, if the girl could keep it under her control. He could still see its wilderness in its eyes, in the way its ears circled crazily. But he believed she could do it, if she kept a firm hand and rule over it.

“I think…” she trails off to think, and pats the mare on its neck once more. “I think I’ll name her Selkie, for her wild attitude.”

Both Witchers grin at the name. “I’d say that fits her perfectly,” Geralt said, and now that the danger was gone the protectiveness was dying down, getting replaced with pride for Ciri even stronger than before. She was growing so well, becoming such a well rounded woman who could take care of herself.

“Indeed it does,” Eskel said in agreement, and then gestures to the stables. “Bring her in, I already cleared a stable for her, and she’s going to need to get used to it now. We’ll train her to wear a saddle tomorrow.”

Ciri nods and guides the mare to the stable, Eskel and Geralt following close behind. They only help her now, helping to guide the mare inside this new, very enclosed space for the first time. Selkie nearly rears if not for Ciri’s firm hand with another hard kick to her sides.

They get Selkie settled in the stall between Scorpion and Roach a few minutes later. She’s calmed by this time, and seems to enjoy the company of other horses because she nips playfully at Roach’s ears. Roach snorts and headbutts her away, looking accusingly at Geralt.

“Sorry girl,” Geralt said with amusement, “You’ve got a new roommate.”

Ciri fills a water bowl and food trough from Selkie, grabbing the new brush Eskel hands her. Geralt joins her in the new horse’s stall, leaning against one of the walls as Ciri begins to crush the mare’s sides. Both her legs and Selkie’s fur are still sticky with the horse’s sweat, but neither seem to mind it. If Yennefer could see the state Geralt’s Child Surprise was currently in, he knew the sorceress would be less than amused. She’d probably already would have made the girl get into the nearest body of water, cleaning her herself. Geralt chuckles to himself at the idea of Yennefer joining them in Kaer Morhen because he hadn’t thought of the sorceress much since he and Ciri had found each other. Not that he was doing it on purpose- he did miss Yennefer now that he was thinking of her- his mind has just been preoccupied with Ciri’s safety and training.

Maybe Yennefer could join them, eventually. He was sure she’d love Ciri.

Once Ciri is done tending to the horse, Geralt tends to the gashes on both of her calves. Pieces of the fence had splintered into the open wounds, making them a great deal uglier than if she’d just been scraped along them. She hisses when Geralt sets to pulling the small pieces of wood embedded as gently as he could, Eskel sat nearby with more medical herbs and supplies if needed.

“These are pretty deep,” Geralt remarks, trying to distract Ciri from the pain with conversation. The girl was handling the pain very well, hardly twitching or making a noise as he pours a healing potion onto the left calf. “You think you’ll be able to walk, once the adrenaline’s worn off?”

Ciri draws a breath in through her nose, sighing with relief as Geralt wraps the first calf with cloth. “Yeah,” she replied after a moment, her voice only shaking slightly. She was pushing through the pain, and Geralt could feel his pride rising into his chest once more. “This is hardly anything compared to the bruises from the pendulum.”

Eskel laughs at that, and Geralt chuckles. Everyone hated that damned pendulum. The Witchers knew Ciri’s pain of training with it, but they all knew it was still necessary for her training. “You may get some impressive scars from those,” Eskel points out, and Geralt can hear the pride in his voice as well. He was impressed by Ciri’s pain tolerance and her fast breaking of the mare, even prouder to be one of the people to have trained her to get like this. Geralt knew the feeling.

“Really?” Ciri asks, a tad too excitedly. But Geralt remembers his own first scars, the ones he received from his training with Eskel. They could still be faintly seen on his shoulders and thighs. They hadn’t been much, but he was still proud of them anyway. She grins when Eskel nods. “First two of many!”

“Indeed, little Swallow,” Eskel said, winking at her. Geralt finishes wrapping the second wound, and helps her stand. He keeps his hands on her shoulders until he was sure she’d gotten her balance and then lets her stand on her own. She bends her legs experimentally, wincing before steeling herself and placing them back down. Eskel lays a hand on her shoulder- not for support, he knew she could stand on her own- and smiles down at her. “Now come, let’s get you something to eat.”

Later that night, Lambert, Eskel and Geralt are training Ciri on their favorite pastime: Gwent. She’s gotten pretty good at playing against Lambert; he really never had any strategy, he’d just throw the strongest cards down and hope for the best. She would always come close to winning against Eskel, though would fall short at the end, and never stands a chance against Geralt. Then again, most people didn’t.

Lambert throws his cards on the table when Geralt beats him for the third time that night, letting out an annoyed groan. “Gods I’m sick of this game,” he said, petulantly pouting like a child. Ciri laughs at him and Eskel rolls his eyes at his childish actions. “I’m turning in.” He throws Ciri a look that cuts off her laughter, since she could sense what he was about to say, “You’d better do so as well soon. I’m waking you up at moonset.”

Ciri frowns and sticks her tongue out at him. He sticks his tongue out at her in return before leaving the room, stretching his arms as he does so. “Big baby,” Eskel said dramatically, and sets the next game up between him and Geralt. “Can’t ever take a defeat with dignity.”

“You won’t be saying that when Geralt beats you too,” Ciri said snarkily, pressing into Geralt’s side as the game begins. She looks his cards over, pointing at the poor fucking infantries in his deck. She grins at him and he lets out an amused breath.

“We’ll see if he does this time,” Eskel said in reply, placing his first card on the board.

In the end, Geralt does win again. Eskel chuckles quietly and passes Ciri a handful of seeds, Geralt watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow. “Alright, alright, you were right,” he said, and Ciri grins as she accepts the seeds. “But I’ll win tomorrow night.”

“We’ll see,” Ciri said smugly, counting the seeds as Eskel walks from the room. She notices Geralt’s gaze on her a second later, and she closes her hand around the seeds, smiling sheepishly up to him. “We started trading seeds as bets from games gwent. I’ve gotten a lot of seeds.”

Geralt can’t stop the bark of laughter. “You’ve been betting on the right horse then,” he remarked and pats her on the back. “You wanna bet some of those seeds on a round between us?”

Ciri scrunches her face up and shakes her head. “No way! I already know I’ll lose,” she said and pockets the seeds.

“With that attitude you will,” Geralt said, smiling at her narrowed eyes.

“I’m not losing the seeds I just won!” she said, turning her head from him. Her lips are pursed before she takes a bite of a sweet roll Lambert had made for dessert that night, getting crumbs and cream on her lips and cheeks. She sombers up a second later and wipes at the crumbs with the back of her night shirt sleeve. She meets his eyes, and he can tell something is bothering her. “Do… do you really think I'm ready? To go on the Trail? To kill my first monsters?”

Geralt sighs and hums in thought, staring back at her seriously. “Yes,” he stated with no hesitance, with complete certainty. Ciri’s eyes widen. “I think you're beyond ready.” 

“Then why you are going with me?” she asked, not accusingly, just curious. 

“Because most of the other people had years to train, had mutations to help them survive,” he explained, and she's nodding, understanding. “And I won't go all the way with you. Only half way, so if you need my help I'm there.” 

She likes that answer, because her shoulders relax before she's wrapping her arms around his neck. He returns the hug, realizing in the back of his mind that she's hugged him more than anyone else has his entire life. He enjoyed and appreciated her embraces, encouraged them by hugging her back when she needed the contact. 

She pulls away a few seconds later, smiles up at him. “I'll turn in for the night as well, then,” she said, and he smiles in return. “Good night, Dad-”

She cuts off, eyes widening in realization of what she'd just said and a shocked silence hangs over them. Geralt’s own eyes are widening, his heart stopping for a second at what she'd just referred to him as, her cheeks turning a bright red. “Good night!” she exclaimed and quickly flees from the room, clearly embarrassed. 

And all Geralt can do is stare after where she'd fled off to, his heart swelling with happiness. 

She called him dad. 

He couldn't process this fact even the following day, when Ciri refuses to meet his gaze and sits next to Eskel instead of him after her training. Lambert looks from Ciri to Geralt and back again. “You two fight?” he asked abruptly. 

“No.” the two say at the same time, gaining a chuckle from Vesemir. 

“My my,” the oldest Witcher said. “This is strange indeed.” But he doesn't press. 

Lambert does, though. “You're almost always glued to his side every chance you get! You had to have fought!” he exclaimed and Ciri blushes all over again. 

“She called me dad last night,” Geralt said, his voice nearly awed at the thought. She had, and it had made him the happiest he'd ever felt before. Not that he could say that aloud. He wasn't sure how. Ciri’s blush deepens and she drops her forehead against the table with a loud thump. 

“Careful!” Eskel said to Ciri, lifting her head back up. “You're gonna break the table!” 

Lambert bursts into laughter a second later. “Oh, that's fucking hilarious!” he said between his laughter. Vesemir chuckles as well, having had experience with children accidentally calling him dad as well. He has raised quite a few boys, after all. But Geralt looked so shell-shocked he knew it was the younger Witcher’s first experience with it. Especially coming from the girl he'd taken under his wing and whom he was connected with through Destiny. 

“It happens to the best of us,” Eskel said wisely, patting Ciri on the shoulder supportively. He sounded as though he’s done the same thing, and Geralt was suddenly curious to know that story. 

Ciri shakes herself and hops to her feet, pats over to Vesemir. She tugs on his sleeve. “Can we go study now?” she asked, surprising everyone with her eagerness. 

“Of course, child,” he said, and the two leave the room. 

Lambert finally catches his breath, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You good there, Wolf? You look as though you've shit yourself,” he said with a shit eating grin. 

Geralt glares at him. “I'm fine,” he stated, his voice a low rumble. Lambert snorts. 

“Uh huh, and I'm not an asshole.” 

Geralt rejoins Ciri and Eskel later that day to continue with Selkie’s breaking. Ciri is struggling to carry a saddle for the mare with both of her hands, trudging into the pasture. Selkie is currently grazing calmly, ears swiveling to focus on the three newcomers. 

“You'll have to let her know you're putting something on her back before you do,” Eskel said pointedly, carrying a bit and reins with him. Geralt leans against the fence on the inside of the fence now, watching Ciri closely as he normally did. The shock of what she'd called him had mostly faded between the two after their sparring earlier, so they were at ease around one another again. Though it still hung in his mind, warming his chest every now and then. “Then you'll have to quickly fasten it.” 

Ciri grunts in response and sets the saddle on be ground beside Selkie, who lifts her head to look at the girl. The mare flicks her tail, sniffs at first Ciri and then the saddle, before returning to grazing. Ciri pats her side and brushes her for a few minutes before she lifts the saddle again, letting it brush against the mare’s side before she throws it fully over her back. 

Selkie snorts and arches her head back, looking at the saddle in confusion. But she doesn't buck, doesn't react badly, even as Ciri fastens it to her. Eskel then hands Ciri the reins and she works on getting the horse to accept the bit into her mouth. This takes another few minutes, and Ciri has to coax her mouth open with a sugar cube, but she gets the reins on eventually. Then, she climbs up and settles herself in the saddle. 

Geralt smiles, that warm feeling of pride returning. She looked perfect in the saddle, all regal like the Lion Cub of Cintra she'd been born to be. He whistles and Roach runs from the stables, halting in front of him. He hops up and steers Roach towards Selkie, looking from Ciri atop her horse to Eskel still on the ground. 

“What do you two say to a race?” he inquired with a smirk. “One of the best and fastest ways to get a horse used to a saddle.” 

Ciri grins at the idea, and looks to Eskel for approval, since he was currently her teacher. The Witcher shrugs with his own smile. “I don't see why not. Let me get Scorpion.” 

Ciri cheers, which surprises Selkie enough for the mare to begin to canter. Roach, having not been ridden in a while, decides to follow. Geralt quickly takes control back and makes her halt, much to her disapproval. 

It takes Ciri a second, but she eventually regains control over Selkie and returns to Geralt’s side. He can hear her using tongue clicks and certain words already, to begin training her to respond to them. Eskel rejoins them a minute later on Scorpion, who snorts in greeting to the other two horses. 

“Shall we race to the courtyard?” Geralt suggests. 

“Sounds good to me,” Eskel replied. The three were buzzing with anticipation, and the horses, sensing their emotions, began to stamp at the ground impatiently. “On the count of three. One… two… three!” 

The horses burst forward at the last word. Selkie quickly gains the lead, her nimbler legs carrying her forward. Roach snorts and Scorpion bays as the two Witchers urge their horses faster. Ciri keeps the lead for a good minute before Selkie misjudges her lead and turns to the right, as Ciri yells for her to stop. The Witchers laugh at her distress and continue on, Roach taking the lead next. 

As they get closer to the courtyard, they spot Lambert sharpening his blade. He looks up and leaps out of their way just before he's trampled. “Assholes!” he yells after them, waving his fist. He's about to sit back down when Ciri races by, knocking him over. “Goddammit!” 

Selkie is quick to catch up with Roach and Scorpion, teaching their tails and surpassing her sire just as they reach the courtyard. They burst into the center, Roach in the lead, Selkie close behind and Scorpion in third place. Vesemir glances up from the book he'd been reading nearby, looking over all three horses as they paw at the ground from the previous excitement. 

“Looks as though Geralt is the winner,” Vesemir announces. He looks to Ciri and her mount. “With Ciri and her gorgeous new mount following up.” 

“Scorpion has fallen from his grace,” Geralt says dramatically. 

“No, it's just not his day,” Eskel shoots back, scratching the stallion behind his ear. 

“Selkie was so fast!!” Ciri exclaims with high pitched laughter. “And if we'd had a little bit further to go, we would have won!” 

“Oh well,” Geralt said teasingly. 

“It looks as though Ciri and her mount are ready for the Trail,” Vesemir said, stepping into the conversation. Ciri loses her smile instantly, becoming serious. Geralt sighs heavily, having known it was about time, but still not ready. “She should set off tomorrow at sunset.” And as Lambert enters the yard he continues, “She will have a full day of rest before then, so she has plenty of energy to fight and travel.” 

Ciri nods, and the other three Witchers have grown somber, watching her. They knew the day was coming, yet they were still somehow unprepared. Eskel looks to Geralt, as though confirming he would keep her safe if she needed him. He nods in confirmation, and some of the tension in his shoulders drop. Lambert’s hands are fists, but he says nothing. 

“I would suggest you head to sleep now. I'll take your horse back to the stables,” Vesemir continue. Ciri slides from the horse’s saddle and hugs the oldest Witcher, much to his surprise. But he returns the hug a second later, seeming to enjoy it. Ciri did give good hugs. 

She looks up to Geralt, who nods sharply at her. “I will help you prepare tomorrow,” he told her. She draws in a breath and heads into the castle, to sleep. 

“You'd better help her if she needs you to, Wolf,” Lambert said suddenly as Geralt slides from Roach’s saddle. He's glaring, arms crossed over his chest. 

Geralt doesn't respond. Instead, he goes to the stables with Vesemir and Eskel to return the horses to their stalls. He doesn't stay up long after that, wanting to be awake before Ciri is so he could prepare himself for the fact she was growing so fast already. 

The next day is a long one, and Lambert doesn't speak much for once. He was worried, anxious for what was going to happen later that day. Eskel was eating silently, and Vesemir was reading another of his books. As soon as Ciri comes down to the table, Lambert lays out lunch for her. They eat silently, only Vesemir speaking occasionally to remind Ciri of how to properly face drowners. She listened intently, her eyes wide. 

Once she was finished eating, Geralt leads her to an area to properly pack and prepare for her venture. He checks the wounds on her legs and asks if she still felt like she could move properly with them. She nodded and answered yes, and he was hoping she wasn't just saying that out of pride. He didn't want her to push herself unnecessarily. 

He gives her a few premade potions and finds a sword at her proper size. He hands it to her, and she slowly takes it into her own grip, staring at it reverently. “This is made from steel,” Geralt tells her, and she stares up at him, holding the sword carefully. “Remember, it is only for monsters, and this sword is your life.” 

Ciri nods and lets him show her how to fasten the sheath around her chest, and then she paces the sword inside of it. She practices drawing it a few times and swipes at the air, testing how it felt in her hands. She looked satisfied, amazing by the blade. 

“Are you ready?” he asks her. And when she meets his eyes and nods they head to their horses, mounting their respective steeds. Selkie snorts as Ciri leads her from Kaer Morhen, have not seen the grounds beyond the great walls. Ciri looks around too. It had been some time since she'd been out here. “Vesemir said the drowners are near the lake. That's this way.” 

Ciri takes her surroundings in as they trot towards the lake, glancing back and forth to take it all in. She hadn't been out here since she and Lambert and snuck out, and they weren't even headed in the same direction as they'd gone then. 

“It's so beautiful here,” she said in wonder, watching the trees sway with the wind. Geralt smiles, amused by her awe of the landscape. He'd grown so used to seeing it growing up here he hardly even noticed the beauty of the place anymore. But now that she's pointed it out, he can once more appreciate it all. The flecks of green of the few leaves still clinging to the branches of the hibernating trees, the hills that rolled on and on into the distance. The flowers that have survived the first bought of cold the winter would bring. 

“You should see it in the spring,” Geralt said, and she smiles at the thought. 

“I can't wait, then,” she said with a small sigh. 

The lake stretches out in front of them as they trudge down one of the many hills towards it. Geralt listens to the area around them and halts Roach, calls for Ciri to stop as well. He can hear the drowners nearby already. They must be at the lake’s shore, clambering about stupidly as they looked for something to eat. Too bad there were only the decomposed bodies of boys who didn't make it through the Trials. 

“This is as far as I go for now,” Geralt tells her, and he can see the panic, the fear in her eyes. He offers her a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, Ciri. You'll do great. And if you need help, call me. I'll hear you.” 

Ciri draws in a deep breath before nodding. She reaches a hand out between their horses and Geralt takes it in his own, giving her an encouraging squeeze. Then, she kicks Selkie’s sides and she heads further down the hill, quiet as she most likely prepares herself for her first fight. 

Geralt slides from Roach’s saddle to wait, tying to a branch on a nearby tree. She grazes happily at the clovers around its roots, ears flickering at the sounds of birds cawing not too far off. Geralt sits in the grass beside the tree, leaning against its trunk, doing his best to stave off the impatience and worry already flaring up in his gut. He wants to do nothing more than to run down after Ciri and pull her away from the danger, to kill the drowners for her. 

But he knows he can't do that. That would hurt and embarrass Ciri, drive a rift he didn't want between them. She needs to learn how to defend herself, to fly on her. She already had her wings up and poised, ready to beat at the air, but she was hesitant, perched on Geralt’s finger. He had to urge her, push her forward. Make her take flight. 

The sound of the drowners targeting prey reaches his ears and he knows that Ciri has started fighting. He can hear her sword meeting flesh, cutting through meat and hacking limbs. He could hear her yelling, the drowners choking on blood, and already knows she's winning. 

He smiles to himself, proud that she is already fighting with such strength. 

There are bodies hitting the ground- one, two, three of them. That leaves three more, and then her first monster killings would be over in a matter of minutes. He was glad her first monsters were drowners; they were of easy difficulty to even those who are new and just starting out but still enough of a challenge for them to break a sweat. 

His blood runs cold, however, at the sound of a water hag freeing itself from the mud. There wasn't supposed to be a water hag. Ciri wasn't ready to fight those yet. 

He hears her cry out in pain as something hits her, hears her hit the ground. He's already up and moving by the time she's calling his name for help. He's on Roach’s saddle and galloping down as soon as she's lifting her sword to block another attack from the hag, its claws scraping along the metal of blade. 

Geralt leaps from Roach’s saddle as soon as he's near and uses Ingii to set the hag on fire. It screams and writhes, and slides away from Ciri. Ciri pushes from the ground, mud sticking to her back and hair. There is blood on her cheek and neck, mixing with the black mud she'd fallen into. There are drowner bodies surrounding them, and he was proud to see that she'd killed off what she was after. 

The water hag hisses at him before it burrows into the mud, disappearing from view momentarily. He grits his teeth and focuses enough to make a magical shield around Ciri, using Quenn to do so. 

That's when the water hag leaps at him, and he barely has enough time to stop it with his sword. The hag screeches at him, spitting in his face and snapping its jaws at his neck. He tries to push it off, but it grabs the blade and yanks, using its other hand to slice him along his upper arm. He yells and tries to cast another shot of Ignii, but the hag catches his wrist and throws him to the ground. Ciri calls out to him as the hag wraps its disgusting hands around his neck, its back claws sinking into his legs painfully. He grunts and tries to throw it off, but it only holds tighter. 

He hears Ciri scream again, and this time, the sound was amplified, much louder than should have been possible. The sound almost makes his ears ring, and the hag shrieks, hands releasing him as it staggered backwards, trying to cover its ears in vain. His eyes dart to Ciri, whose mouth was as wide as it would go, an utterly terrifying screech erupting from her lungs. It was causing the earth to shake, the water to tremble and the air to shiver. The hag coughs of blood, and more blood trickles from its ears and eyes. 

The hag suddenly chokes, its eyes explode and it claws at its face as the screaming continues, its blood soaking the mud beneath it. Finally, it falls over, continuing to writhe until it stills, dead. 

Ciri doesn't stop screaming even then, the horrible sound echoing around them and filling the air. Geralt can't hear anything else, and his ears throb, but he is surprised that he has not started to bleed or die like the hag had. He looks over to where the girl was, the Quenn barrier destroyed. She is on her knees, head backwards, mouth wide open and eyes blank as the screaming tears from her throat. There is some kind of black liquid trickling from her eyes, her veins darkening. 

Geralt needs to get her to stop. Now. 

He pushes to his feet, nearly falling over into the mud. He forces himself to continue moving, to reach Ciri. He grabs both of her shoulders, kneeling in front of her and shaking her urgently. 

“Ciri!” he yelled, his voice nearly lost in the screaming. “Ciri, you can stop! The hag is dead!” She doesn't stop, and Geralt shakes his head as his brain throbs. “Ciri! Please, I’m okay, and you're okay!” 

Doing the last thing he can think of, he wraps his arms around Ciri’s waist tightly, burying his face in her hair. The screaming shakes his entire body now, his ear right beside its source, but he doesn't let go, doesn't let up. He squeezes her, whispers into her ear, “You did good. You can stop now.” 

Finally, the screaming is cut off, as though suddenly stopped, Ciri’s mouth snapping shut. The girl falls heavily against him, her head coming to rest against his shoulder as she breathes heavily, body trembling with exertion. Their blood mingles, begins to swirl together in a puddle beneath them, turning dark. 

“G- Geralt-” she gasped, grabs at his sides, her grip weak. She sounds as though she had just run for miles with no stop, like she had exerted herself to the max. “Y- You're.. okay..”

Geralt nods, squeezes her gently. “Yes Ciri, I’m okay,” he tells her softly. Her eyes shut, and she passed out with another word. 

Geralt shifts how he is holding her, places one hand beneath her knees and the other between her shoulder blades. Lifts her to his chest as he stands. He looks down at his face, his heart finally calming, no longer a painful beating against his ribcage. He wonders briefly if it had been beating as fast as regular human’s does a few seconds ago. 

He sets off for Kaer Morhen, leaving the horses. He doesn't want to let Ciri go right now, and mounting a horse would mean he'd have to. They could return for them later. 

He needs time to sort through his thoughts, anyway. 

Ciri has screamed, and the Chaos surrounding them had vibrated with it, responded. The girl had magic, that much was obvious. But why hadn't she used it before? Why hadn't Geralt’s medallion told him of it? He knows in the back of his mind who he was. going to need to contact to help figure this out. But he could reach out to her later. 

For now, he steps into the main hall, and all three Witchers look to them instantly. Lambert rushes over, looking Ciri up and down. 

“What the hell happened?” he demands upon seeing her unconcious. “Is she alright? Did she kill them? Did y-”

“Not now,” Geralt growled, cutting the youngest Witcher off. Eskel and Vesemir step out of his way as he approaches them, continues deeper into the castle. The other Witchers follow closely behind him, silently. They must sense he wasn't currently in the mood to speak. Good. 

He carries Ciri all the way up to her room, places her in her bed, and only then begins to clean her wounds in the safety and comfort of Kaer Morhen. He can feel the other’s gazes in his back, standing quietly behind him, confused and curious as to what had happened. He wraps her wounds, and then sighs. 

“She killed them drowners,” he tells them, and Lambert smiles. “And then a water hag showed up.” Lambert’s smile falls. “I went to help, but it got the better of me. And then…. Ciri screamed, and killed the hag. With her scream.” 

He finally looks back to the other Witchers once he's tucked Ciri beneath her blankets. They all look confused. Exactly how he feels. 

“She killed the hag with her scream?” Vesemir repeated slowly, as though clarifying. At Geralt’s nod he frowns. “Sounds like powerful magic. But she doesn't exude a magical aura.” 

“And she's never been able to use the signs, either,” Eskel adds on, his arms over his chest. 

“She shows no magical abilities whatsoever!” Lambert exclaimed in agreement. 

“We’re going to need a magical expert, aren’t we?” Vesemir said with a heavy, defeated sigh. He never did like depending on other people. Especially not sorceresses. 

“We're going to need Yennefer,” Geralt answered with certainty. 

“Your sorceress girlfriend?” Lambert asked with a raised eyebrow. “How are we going to find her?” 

“Head for Sodden. She should be in one of the surrounding villages,” Geralt replied. “She has long, black hair and purple eyes. She is always wearing black and white. She's hard to miss.”

“Lambert, Eskel, you two find the sorceress,” Vesemir ordered. “We will stay with Cirilla.” 

“Hate going out in winter,” Lambert mutters, but the two young Witchers head out together. 

Geralt exchanges a gaze with Vesemir. “She will be okay,” he tells him. “She is strong.” 

Geralt nods, looks down to Ciri. “I know..” he muttered, but it was still hard to believe. 

Yennefer would know what to do.

**Author's Note:**

> LEMME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE AND COMMENT IDEAS PPPLSSSS LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK I WROTE A LOT AND WANT VALIDATION


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